The Life and Times of Moira Edelstein
by Mimzay-Peach
Summary: I really don't care for anything magical. I suppose that will change now that I got a letter with my name on it. To a school of magic. The story of a girl from the years 1971 to 1980. Yes, an OC. No, not a Mary Sue. Rating will go up with chapters.
1. Swallowing the Letter

A/N: Hello to all who are reading this. If you have me on story updates and such, Arabesques will be finished soon. I swear XD But this has been poking at the back of my mind for a while, and I wanted to get it up. Sooo...I hope you enjoy and don't despise the character. Constructive Criticism is always welcome.

Disclaimer: I OWN MY OC! MUWAHAHAHA!!

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_End of summer,1970._

There have been two truly defining moments in my life. The first was when I first found out I could do things if I got over emotional. I set my mum's antique Oriental rug on fire during a temper tantrum when I was four. Mum cried for weeks after that. Dad was scared stiff over a fire appearing in the rug out of the blue. No one could explain it.

Which leads to my next moment.

My acceptance to Hogwarts. I turned eleven in June and was working on the rose bushes with mum when I saw an owl flying.

In broad daylight.

And it was flying towards me.

Very, very quickly.

I opened my mouth to scream and a letter with an old wax stamp holding it closed landed in my open mouth. Yes, I practically ate my Hogwarts acceptance letter. It's not that bloody funny, shut up.

Well, my mother noticed that I was making gagging noises, since parchment does not taste good at all, and immediately rushed over her prized roses to make sure I wasn't dying of plague or something ridiculous that her superstitions led her to believe. When she saw that I was simply choking to death on an old fashioned letter, she looked puzzled and began to drag me inside.

When she noticed the owl on top of the house, hooting softly, she let out a scream about the devil trying to steal her baby's soul and ran inside, nearly taking my arm out of its socket.

Now, before I go any further in my story, I would like you to know that up until I was choked by a letter, I did not believe in anything mystical, magical, or miraculous. Everything happened for a reason. Of course, I still have _that_ mindset, but it's a tad different. Now I know that if my dress catches fire, it's because either someone got upset, or they thought it funny to see me scream and run around in circles all while trying to keep my dress from becoming a charred mess.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

You see, my mother is deeply religious. She is also absolutely in love with magic. Wizards, witches, wands and the like astound her.

So, when she read the letter and saw that I was accepted to a school of magic, she screamed happily and announced that we would be getting the supplies at once. Father rubbed the bridge of his nose and I whined, saying that it was most likely a practical joke.

Mum sulked for a while after that and didn't say another word on it until a few days later when the cat was attacked by an owl with a letter. She dragged me and dad to London, even though we're dirt poor, and looked at the instructions in the letter for…"muggles".

So, that led us into a pub where we were supposed to get my supplies. We were led by a portly man to the back room, and I snorted. "I told you this was a joke, mum," I sighed. She frowned at me. "We're probably going to be murdered or mugged or something," I muttered, causing the man to laugh. I looked at him and he tapped a few bricks with a stick—though I know now that it was a wand—with a certain order.

And the wall bloody opened to reveal an alley of shops. Full of people who wore dresses—I also know now that they were robes, not dresses—and flying toys, sparkles, and strange store names.

I fainted after that, so I don't remember much else. Well, other than going to Gringotts and dad yelping about" the strange, mutated midgets who worked there" –he now flushes bright red when I mention it, now that we know they were goblins—and going to get a wand.

Oh, my wand…

Fourteen inches, oak with a dragon heartstring. I love my wand.

Mainly because it was the wand that convinced me that magic really was real. I could feel it pulsing through my veins when I waved the wand around.

Mum says I cried, though if you ask her, I will furiously deny anything of the sort.

And so that leads us here, in between platforms nine and ten…

And I'm about to run into a wall.

God help me.

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A/N: Rather short prologue..but the next bit is longer, so don't worry. If you like it, add it, review. No flames, please. They make me feel bad ;


	2. The Evil Amphibian

A/N:Yay! I already have a review and a few story alerts 3 Thanks you guys!

Well, here's the next chapter. You know the drill. I own Moira and nothing else.

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Chapter two

It's shocking to walk into a wall and not crash into it, but to almost fly through it and see a bright red train on the other side. My mouth drops open. I mutter a small "Bloody hell" before pushing my cart towards the group of other magical and mystical folk and letting out a small breath. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do, now. I suppose I should ask someone.

A boy next to me picks up his trunk, pet, and other things and gives them to a tall man.

Or I suppose I could watch and learn. Quickly, I rush over to the man, spitting my hair out of my mouth. It must have gotten stuck in there while I was running through the wall. He hides a laugh and I feel my face go red. I look down at my trunk and he nods, taking it and putting it with the others. I let out a sigh and look at the train. It's gorgeous.

I notice that most of the students are on it, now, too, so I rush to the opening and hop up into the train. And then I notice that almost all of the compartments are full. Lovely. Sighing, I walk down the aisles, looking for a seat.

I find one compartment and notice only one person in it. Most likely a first year, like me. He's kind of pudgy. I clear my throat and he looks at me with small watery eyes. "Erm…may I sit here?" I point at the seat across from him. He blinks at me and smiles nervously before nodding. I smile back and sit across from him, picking at one of my fingernails.

We don't speak until the train starts to move. I extend my hand. "I'm Moira Edelstein," I say. The pudgy boy shakes my hand and mutters back, "Peter Pettigrew". I nod and pull my hand back, swinging my legs. I look down at myself and try not to wince. My mum is nice enough, but she really doesn't do well when it comes to clothing. The taste is good, but she doesn't find any comfortable clothes. I scratch at my arm, cursing my itchy wool sweater, and then my knee, cursing my itchy stockings.

Peter notices my fidgeting and raises an eyebrow. He looks out the window when I glare at him. I shouldn't be rude to the first person I know here, but I'm irritated. "So…" he says, looking back at me. "Which house do you think you'll be in?"

I blink. "Erm…house?" I ask. His mouth takes an "O" shape and his eyebrows shoot up. As do mine. "What?" I say, hesitantly. "You don't know about the Hogwarts houses?" he whispers slowly, as if I'm off my trolley. I blink again. "Erm…no…I just found out a while ago that I'm a witch," I mutter. "Though I did set mum's rug on fire when I was little…but that was just once," I clear my throat awkwardly.

Peter then goes off on a tirade over the houses, and the rivalries and Quidditch and other things I really don't want to listen to. He's nice enough, but he seems to try too hard. After thirty minutes, I can't take much more and am about to leave when the door to our compartment opens and a woman with a trolley of delicious treats grins at us. "Anything from the trolley?" she asks us, cheerful. Peter stands up and gets …"chocolate frogs, sugar quills, and pumpkin pasties". Also known as "enchanted amphibians, feathers that spew sugar and 'Hey, that actually looks appetizing'". He offers me a frog and I blink at it. "Chocolate…frogs?" my nose wrinkles in disgust as he opens his own frog.

He bites the head off and smiles after he swallows it. I look down at mine as he pulls a card out of his box. I open my box and scream as the frog hops up onto my head, setting itself in my hair. Peter lets out a laugh and grabs the frog before it can do more damage. I'm lucky my hair is brown, or people would be able to tell that I have chocolate in it. Not that it isn't disgusting to have chocolate in your hair. Ugh. He offers it back to me, but I wrinkle my nose and instead ask for a few pumpkin pasties.

As we eat our sweets, I look out the window at the landscape rushing past me. It makes me dizzy so I instead finish my sweet and close my eyes. "So…you're a muggle-born, then?" Peter pipes up, sucking on one of the feathers. I blink at him again. Muggles…I remember the word from the letter; the instructions to get to Platform 9 3/4 and where to go to get into Diagon Alley. I still don't remember what a Muggle is, though. "Muggle?" I ask. Peter grins. "Non-magical folk," he says, finishing off his feather and grabbing another "Evil, hair-killing frog of doom" and biting its head off. Ah, that explains it.

I shrug. "Yeah, I suppose," I say, smiling slightly. He nods once. "I'm half and half myself," he says. "My mum's a muggle and dad's a wizard," he finishes off his evil frog and takes another card out of the box. "Ugh, I got Merlin again," he mutters. I raise an eyebrow but don't question it.

I'm looking out the window when Peter nudges me. "Hm?" I turn and look at him. He's holding out the card he seemed upset over. "What?"

"Well, you obviously don't have any chocolate frog cards…consider this your first one?" he smiles sheepishly. I take it and smile back slightly. Merlin.

I grin to myself. Maybe this magic thing won't be too bad if I have a friend like Peter around.

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A/N: You know the drill. No flames, review if you like it, add it. And no, this isn't an OC/Peter. So...Yeah. haha.


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